


Chorizo

by owlettica



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Canned peaches, Chorizo, Double Entendre, Gotham 5x04 had me Zsaszgasming so hard, I dub thee Zsaszvarez, Interrogation, M/M, Mesoamerican iconography, Mild Language, Naked Zsasz, Nary a plot to be found, Not Beta Read, Strip Search, Zsasz is an incorrigible flirt, a smidgie wee bit of Spanish, some naughty words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 13:19:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17919542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlettica/pseuds/owlettica
Summary: Victor’s taken in for questioning after the incidents at Haven.______This fic takes place during Gotham ep 5x04, “Ruin” and is chock full of spoilers—with dialogue lifted right from it. Don’t say you weren’t warned.As usual, I have no plot. I’m just a sick fan (with no association to Gotham or FOX) writing what I’d love to see on the show. Please don’t sue me. I haven’t any money.





	Chorizo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Le_Noir (Psycho_Chiquita)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psycho_Chiquita/gifts), [hiddlemethis24 (myliege_theelvenking)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myliege_theelvenking/gifts), [Filthycasual](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Filthycasual/gifts).



> _Because I’m of Mexican descent, my chorizo [choh-ree-soh] is gonna be of that culinary tradition: highly seasoned fatty sausage (usually pork, but can be made from other meats like beef)._

—>z<—

It’s been awhile since Zsasz found himself in police custody, not since way back in the early days when he first got started in “the biz” working for Don Falcone—largely as muscle and intimidation because Victor had yet to realize his _real_ talent for torture and execution.

Sure, the henchman got pinched once or twice, but he never had to wait long before Falcone’s lawyers sprang him, especially after the old man discovered his flair and knack for ending people.

Zsasz has since learned from his mistakes, doing everything in his power to evade capture. Even if the cocksure gunman manages to be seen, he easily dissuades anyone inclined to snitch—usually skipping the stitches in favor of morgue-worthy status (assuming anyone can even locate a corpse for the medical examiner).

To date, there were only a few souls brave enough to take him on. Of those few, only _one_ ever refused to cower to him: ~~Detective~~ _Captain_ Jim Gordon. After being bested by his favorite adversary _again_ , Victor winds up in interrogation, tag-teamed by the man himself and his salty, longtime partner, Bullock. They currently have his face shoved against a substantial table-top.

“Ow. This is a really nice table.”

Harvey starts the interrogation.

“We gotta dozen witnesses that saw you walk out of that building before it went kabooey.”

“Yeah. I heard some gangs had taken over. Figured, with you guys occupied, I’d help myself to some of your supplies. Hey, do you guys have any canned peaches? Man. I’d trade an arm and a leg for that right now. Not mine. Somebody else’s.”

They pull him up and Gordon takes his turn.

“If you’re innocent, why shoot up a city block full of cops?”

Victor squints with disbelief.

 _Did he_ **_seriously_ ** _ask me that?_

The hitman provides the ridiculously obvious answer, his tone incredulous.

“Because it was full of… _cops_ —who were also trying to shoot me. And guys, those were _warning_ shots. I mean, if I really wanted to kill you… you’d be dead.”

Bullock wisecracks.

“You gotta pen? I wanna write this guy a thank you letter.”

As a general rule, Zsasz is a pretty easy-going guy, but he didn’t even get to finish reading his Gunman Magazine and probably lost the yo-yo Pepper got him, _thanks to Jim_. He’s a wee irked.

 _Do they_ **_really_ ** _think I blew up that building?_

“Do the math. If I blew up a building full of people, I would’ve covered every inch of my body in sweet, sweet scars. You guys wanna do a strip search?”  
  
The door knocks and opens. That’s when Victor hears that tall drink of water, _Alvarez_. He _still_ hasn’t forgotten knocking on the gorgeous man’s desk when he and The Girls came for Gordon at the behest of the late, great Don Falcone.

The tall, olive-skinned man addresses Gordon (who, if Zsasz is completely honest, is pretty damn easy on the eyes himself).

“Got Lucius on the horn for you, Cap.”

Victor suddenly finds the prospect of a strip-search a _lot_ more appealing.

“I’d let Alvarez do it.”

He grins at Harvey and his voice grows wistful.

“He’s handsome.”

Victor takes a few stabs at conversation after Jim exits interrogation. He asks if his yo-yo’s been taken into evidence and the possibility of grub if they detain him but Bullock’s not in the mood for chit chat. The older man gruffs and exits the room to determine what Jim wants to do with Gotham’s most colorful homicidal maniac and sadist _—of the highest professional standards._

Zsasz is certain they’re going to make him wait awhile so he makes himself comfortable. He kicks back in his chair with his feet up on the table, legs crossed at the ankle and waits, hoping maybe, _just maybe_ he’ll get something like _canned pineapple…  or fruit cocktail… or…_

 

—>a<—

Alvarez walks up the moment Bullock steps out of interrogation, his face writ with resignation. Harvey wryly comments.

“Drew the _short_ straw, eh?”

Alvarez screws up his face and nods.

“You kinda did too. Cap wants you close by ‘cause it’s _Zsasz_.”

The veteran shakes his head and raises a hand to his hat.

“Dammit. I _knew_ it. Havin’ to question the guy’s bad enough. Can you _believe_ that psychopath had the nerve to ask if we had canned peaches?! I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”

Bullock makes a face.

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Cap said.”

Harvey sucks in a huge breath and puffs out a sigh.

_Fuck._

“Guess that’s why we get paid the big bucks.” He puffs out a mirthless snort. “Or _not_. Welp. Let’s get this over with. I can’t believe we gotta strip-search this creep.”

Alvarez reluctantly corrects him.

“He didn’t really say you _had_ to be in there, just close by since we already confiscated his weapons. Besides, we’re too short-handed to double-up.”

Harvey squints a discriminating eye.

“The natives _are_ growing restless. You sure, man?”

The taller man grumbles.

“Yeah. I got it.”

Harvey slumps in relief and grabs the detective’s face, kissing the side of it.

“ _Yes_. Dude. You _got_ this.”

Bullock slaps the man’s shoulder and leans in close.

“Seriously, though. That guy gives me the willies but…  I don’t think he’ll give you any trouble.”

He scrunches up his face.

“I think he _likes_ you.”

Alvarez blinks with disbelief. Harvey nods and waves him in.

 

—>z<—

Victor hears the door open, fully prepared for one of Bullock’s storied remarks. When none comes, he quirks a brow and looks over his shoulder. The moment he sees Detective Alvarez reaching to lift him out the chair, his face splits into a wide, appreciative grin.  
  
“Must be my lucky day.”

Alvarez takes the notorious man out of interrogation and walks him to processing. The detective avoids eye contact, but can plainly see the hitman staring at him through his peripheral vision. He recalls the time Zsasz and his henchwomen came into the precinct looking for Gordon. You could practically feel the air being sucked out of the room.

He was fully prepared for the man’s famously intimidating behavior when they took him into custody earlier, but nothing could prepare him for _this:_ friendly (dare he say _flirty?_ ) smiles that are a curious mixture of utterly charming and absolutely terrifying. He feels himself growing mildly self-conscious.

Victor studies at Alvarez’s coarse, thick, curly hair cut close to his skin, his five o'clock shadow, that strong chin and _those lips_ on his way to processing. There, a unie’s finishing up with another guy who looks awfully familiar. Zsasz squints an eye and tilts his head, trying to figure out how he knows him. His eyes drift to a nearby desk with an evidence bag containing a package wrapped in white butcher paper.

“Hey, man. You work at that carniceria…”

Zsasz looks up for a minute and scrunches his mouth to one side of his face.

“La Michoacana, right? I’ve been in there with some of The Girls. Xoc. You know _her_ right?”

Victor starts to point towards his head, forgetting he’s cuffed behind his back.

“She’s got those Mayan glyphs tattooed on her head?”

The man thinks a moment before nodding.

“Oh yeah and that Quetzalcoatl tattoo.”

Victor makes a face and shakes his head.

“ _Kukulkan_. Dude. Her and Yaotl go round and round about that.”

“She the one with the Miquiztli and jaguar tattoos?”

Victor smiles and nods.

“Yeah, that’s her.” He shrugs. “So uh… what’s up?”

The guy raises his cuffed hands.

“Right. So, what they pinch ya for?”

The guy puffs out a sigh and gazes at the evidence bag.

“I uh… took some meat from my job.”

Victor nods at it.

“Anything good?”

The man sheepishly nods.

“Yeah. _Chorizo_.”

Victor appreciatively moans and slowly shakes his head from side to side.

“ _Man._ What I wouldn’t give for some of _that_.

Zsasz wistfully grins up at Alvarez.

“Me _encanta_ el chorizo.”

The perp incredulously squints his eyes.

“Dude, seriously? Say uh... aren’t you...? I mean, no offense but… ya know chorizo’s not exactly… _kosher_.”

Victor shrugs.

“None taken. Hey, what Bubbe doesn’t know won’t hurt her, right?”  

He bites his lower lip and licks it, raising his brow and looking from side to side.

“Besides, chorizo’s _so. darn. delicious._ Can ya blame me?”

The perp knowingly chuckles and longingly gazes at the abandoned meat in the evidence bag.

“Right? Dry and hard is how it should be."

Victor slyly grins.

“Yeah. I get ya. But sometimes? I need a nice soft, _wet_ one, ya know? I mean…  the way it just _crumbles_ under your touch? Hot.”

He peers up at Alvarez, curls his lip and snarls through clenched teeth.

_“Spicy.”_

Alvarez subtly shifts, working hard to concentrate on paperwork as Zsasz makes one double entendre after another.

_Dammit. Did I just throb? Fuck. I did. I’ve gotta get this jackass into holding or get behind a desk..._

“So what about _you_ , Alvarez?”

The detective finally comes back to himself with the sound of his name—only to find Victor smiling up at him, head tilted and brow arched.

“How do you like _your_ chorizo?”

The tall man’s face blanks.

Bullock walks up and grabs Zsasz by the shoulder.

“This goon giving you any lip, Carlos?”

Zsasz offers a lopsided grin and answers before Alvarez can.

“ _Carlos_ , huh? No, but I’d sure _love_ to give him some—.”

“Nobody asked you, Zsasz. C’mon.” Bullock pushes Victor along to private room for searches. “You know the drill.”

Victor enters the room and turns to face the two men. He grins up at Alvarez as Bullock walks up and uncuffs him from behind. Zsasz arches a brow and smiles after Alvarez instructs him to remove his empty double holster and hand it over, watching as the man inspects and sets it on the table.

Bullock walks out from behind him and approaches Alvarez, whispering into the taller man’s ear (all the while keeping an eye on Zsasz).

“You sure you got this?”

The taller man nods.

“Yeah.”

Bullock looks the man square in the eye.

“I’m right outside the door.”

Zsasz’s lips part and he stretches a wide, open-mouthed smile when Bullock exits. Alvarez turns to him, tone stiff and all business.

“Jacket.”

Victor slowly shrugs out of it and hands it to the taller man, repeating the process with his vest after the lawman requests it. All the while, he watches the detective give his clothes a quick but thorough once over. Just as he reaches to unbutton his shirt, the taller man clears his throat.

“Boots and socks.”

Victor arches a brow and grins.

Alvarez watches as Zsasz drops to a knee to remove his footwear. Victor looks up and winks before unlacing his boots. Afterwards, he stands—holding out his his socks and boots, grazing Alvarez’s hand with a finger in the process.

The detective feels his face flush. He shifts his attention to the man’s socks and boots and sets them aside, taking longer than he probably should as he tries to collect himself.

“Shirt.”

Victor slowly shakes his head.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

Despite Victor’s nimble fingers, he takes his time unbuttoning his cuffs and shirt before unveiling his heavily-scarred and well-muscled torso. He hands Alvarez his shirt, stretching a lopsided grin.

The detective’s eyes widen and lips part at the numerous, keloidal scars on Zsasz’s arms and torso tallying his confirmed kills. When he realizes he’s staring, he clears his throat and takes the offered garment. He feels his mouth grow dry.

“Pants.”

Victor smirks and looks Alvarez square in the eye as he unfastens himself.

“You’re the boss.”

The deafening silence in the room makes the unzipping and rustling of Zsasz’s trousers surprisingly loud. Victor removes them with dangling suspenders attached—cheekily standing akimbo in his burgundy boxer briefs as he hands them over.

—

Outside the door, Bullock waits, battling his rising guilt as Carlos searches the dangerous man without backup in the other room. He also can’t help but think he’s missing out an opportunity to confirm if the rumors are true. The streets of Gotham long whispered about Zsasz’s fabled tallies, but none (as far as he knew) had actually lived to tell tale of them.

—

Alvarez tries to mentally prepare himself, but the hitman’s curiously hairless body and number of tallies on his powerful quads take him aback. It takes him a moment to accept the offered trousers. After inspecting and setting them aside, he swallows—his mouth parched.

“Underwear.”

Victor purrs.

“Yes, _sir_.”

Victor makes a production of slipping his thumbs beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs. Only then does Alvarez finally notice the yellow _‘LUCKY YOU’_ on his waistband. He can feel the color rise to his ears, face and neck as Zsasz smirks and inches them down his legs. The assassin unabashedly removes his underwear, stretching a rapacious grin as he offers them to the taller man.

Alvarez reaches for the garment (still warm from the heat of Victor’s body). The detective uncomfortably shifts before the assassin, acutely feeling the embarrassment as if _he’s_ the one stripped to nothing—not to mention the stirring in his pants. He absently gapes until he hears Zsasz’s voice.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

When Alvarez blinks, Victor’s eyes pointedly look down to his junk. He returns the man’s gaze and arches a brow. The detective croaks.

“Lift your penis.”

Victor stretches a wolfish smile and reaches to take himself in hand.

“So… _Carlos_. How do you feel about... _kosher_ meat?”

—

Bullock’s curiosity has finally gotten the best of him. He knocks on the door and opens it, stopping dead in his tracks. He’s not sure what shocks him most: Victor Zsasz in all his glory with his dick in hand, the dozens of tallies riddling his muscular body or the fact he doesn’t appear to have any hair. _Anywhere._

“Holy shit.”

Victor smiles and casually waves with his free hand.

“Oh. Hi, Harvey.”

Bullock grimaces and immediately covers his face, reluctantly peeking between his fingers. It’s obvious the man’s scars aren’t fresh and (despite their number) aren’t enough required for the Haven bombing. He gruffs out.

“Alright, alright, alright! We _get_ it! _Turn around already!_ ”

Victor replies.

“But I didn’t even get to lift my—.”

Bullock shouts over him.

_“Shut up and turn around for Chrissake!”_

Bullock takes a reluctant look, watching as Zsasz shrugs and obliges.

“Suit yourself.”

There are only a few tallies visible on easier to reach places like Zsasz’s shoulders and behind his calves. To the detectives’ chagrin, Victor leans over the table piled with his clothes. That’s when Bullock notices the completed tally set on the man’s swiveling left hip.

Zsasz grins at Detective Alvarez over a shoulder and cheekily shakes his ass.

“So are we goin’ full body cavity or what?”

—>z<—

Not much surprises Victor, but even he’s having a hard time wrapping his brain around the day’s events: Gordon tackling him and almost knocking his ass out _again_ , being taken into custody for the Haven bombing, having his Sigs and knives confiscated, Penguin's “trial”...

Zsasz shakes his head. He knew he’d have to check out _sometime_ , but he always imagined it’d be in a firefight—not after being trussed up like a dog with his neck in the lunette of a guillotine, waiting for the fall of the blade.

He still can’t believe Gordon and Bullock saved him from certain death—only for Gotham’s golden boy to try and goad him into a gunfight.

_Guess Jim’s not the only one havin’ a shit day._

Victor tries to take comfort in the fact (despite Gordon’s clear frustration) the man was still honorable enough let him go and he gotta little one-on-one with that _sexy_ Detective Alvarez.

_He really is handsome isn’t he?_

As he treks back home, he’s certain The Girls kept a loose enough tail that they’ll soon be meeting up with him. It’s growing warm with the heat of the day. He removes his gloves so he can work off the duct tape still dangling from his neck and unbutton the top buttons of his shirt.

When Victor shoves them into his jacket pocket, his brow quirks at the feel of something unexpected.

After Zsasz pulls the short metal cylinder from his pocket and reads the label, his face splits into a wide grin.

_Peaches._

 

**Author's Note:**

> A few things inspired this silly fic, first and foremost _obvi_ was Anthony Carrigan’s brilliant ad-libbed line in 5x04, “I’d let Alvarez do it. He’s handsome.” (I swear. If that man keeps this sh!t up, he’s gonna force me to update my sexual orientation from lesbian to homoflexible.)
> 
> _Like I said on Tumblr, I cannot tell you how happy this latina is to know that her beloved Zsasz likes chorizo. Seriously though: 5x04 was Zsaszgasmic! :3_
> 
> I also had a hilarious text convo with Psycho Chiquita after the ep’s airdate. They’re the evil genius who actually dreamt up the dialogue about the various chorizos and Alvarez’s reaction to said chorizos and made mexican-texican’s [super fun Zsaszvarez art.](https://mexican-texican.tumblr.com/post/182312735040/senpai-noticed-me) Go peek because it’s super phuccin’ cute!
> 
> Lastly, my phuccing brilliant fanfic wifey, Filthycasual made some [delicious art of strip-searched Zsasz.](https://filthycasualfanfic.tumblr.com/post/182308956128/please-reblog-and-not-repost-stripped-searched) Check it. It’s awesome! _(In fact, it’s so awesome, JW Cortés [who plays Alvarez] even liked her sh!t and retweeted it. The best part? FC didn’t even know it and I got to tell her first! :3)_
> 
> Wait! A couple more things:
> 
> Zsasz being _“trussed up like a dog”_ is a nod to my absolute fanfic crush: the ridiculously talented, ifnot_winter. She’s writing a scrumptious Zsaszy thang, “The Lantern or the Fire”. Sweet holy mother. It’s SO. DAMB. DELISH. She writes the way I wish I could. She’s primo top shelf, but I’m all cheap rotgut. Seriously. If you’re a Zsasz fan (and even if you’re not) go read it [here. NOW.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16614425/chapters/38943749) Seriously. You won’t be sorry. 
> 
>  
> 
> And that list of all Zsasz’s stuff? Thanks to [inappropriatefangirlneeds’ detective work on Tumblr](http://inappropriatefangirlneeds.tumblr.com/post/182437102280/5x4zsasztable), I would have never known half of what my precious Zsaszy-poo kept in his crow’s nest. 
> 
> Okay, freaks. That’s all I got. I’m still kind shocked that I didn’t smut this fic up. Don’t worry. I can assure you my next two solo projects will be properly smutted. (Oh, and I’m gonna do another collab with FC after I bang out *giggles* those other projects, so bet your bottom dollar it’ll be an unapologetic sausage/smutfest. Just sayin’.) 
> 
>  
> 
> **To my three fave Texans: I love the phucc outta y’all’s fine- &sses and hope you like my chorizo! *muah*muah*muah***
> 
>  
> 
> Love, peace and chorizo grease, y’all. If any of y’all had the (mis)fortune of reading any of my other sh!t (or this), y’all know the drill: I had no beta, so please lemme know if I gotta mop up anything. 
> 
> ‘Till next time, kiddo cats. Thank you kindly.
> 
> **}8 > 卌**


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